


He Never Did

by Joolzmp7



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Christmas, Deductions, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joolzmp7/pseuds/Joolzmp7
Summary: Alternate first meeting of university students John and Sherlock and their very first mini-case.  This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	He Never Did

He Never Did

by Joolz

Chapter One

Nervous. Why was he nervous - he didn't have nervous feelings? He didn't allow any 'feelings' to interfere with his life. That's what it appeared to be, though. Butterflies in his stomach. What a ridiculous analogy. First of all, that would be a physical impossibility. Secondly, in a bizarre world where butterflies could survive the passage down the alimentary canal, how would anyone know what that felt like? Finally, even if that were a thing, it wouldn't be happening to him.

Why on earth did he agree to this? This boy was going to be the same as everyone else. No-one ever wanted to spend longer with him than the length of time it took for him to tell them what he saw when he looked at them. He'd be just like all the others.

He shouldn't have listened to Gavin when he set him up for this 'date'. He didn't go on dates and if he did he wouldn't need to have one set up by Graham. He only put up with the guy because he was the one vaguely intelligent person in his criminology lectures and that wasn't saying much. Geoff often asked Sherlock to join him at one of the regular Friday night campus parties. It was on the one occasion that he had caved to the constant requests when he had apparently been spotted by this so-called-friend who had since asked to meet him. Sherlock had left too early to meet this person on that occasion as he had more or less walked in to the party, seen what sort of idiots were there, insulted several of them, then turned round and walked out again.

Gareth told him during their next class that his friend, John, had seen him there and wanted to meet him for a coffee. Clearly the man hadn't been close enough to hear what Sherlock had been saying or he would have been put off instantly, as was everyone else. He had reluctantly agreed to meet him, though, if only to stop the constant whining from George at every subsequent lesson.

Which was why he currently found himself standing outside the door to Hudson's Tea Shoppe, wondering what he was doing there and whether he could even be bothered to go in. He supposed he was here now so he may as well get it over with and then at least he could stop this ridiculous feeling inside him and go back to his experiments.

He pushed open the door and looked round the café, analysing all the customers to see which was this John. Not the tall boy biting his nails; he'd clearly been sitting there for forty five minutes, long enough to finish his drink and realise that he'd been stood up. Not the several groups or couples, obviously. Which left two choices: an older student of about twenty five who had his laptop set up on the table. No, too old, and more interested in finishing his dissertation for his Master's degree than looking around waiting for someone. Therefore, by a process of elementary elimination, it was the short, blond boy in the corner, who rose from his chair as he spotted Sherlock and was now grinning inanely and waving across at him. 

Sherlock walked over to him and shook the hand that was extended to him, surprised at such a gesture in this modern world where people didn't really initiate contact. He was even more surprised when John pulled out a chair for him and helped him in.

"Hi Sherlock. Thanks for coming. It's great to finally meet you. I didn't think Greg would ever get you to agree. What can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a coffee, black, two sugars please."

"Sure, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

How ridiculous - where was he likely to go - and who was this Greg? He watched John joke with the older lady behind the counter and come back with Sherlock's coffee, a cup of tea for himself and also two, hot buttered scones.

"You have to try these scones. They're Mrs Hudson's speciality and they are to die for, especially when they're fresh out of the oven like these."

"I'm not really hungry."

"Oh, just give it a try. Honestly, it'll be worth it."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and reluctantly took a bite. There was a nice crunch on the top and the inside was hot and buttery and it really was delicious. He quickly took another mouthful and rapidly finished the whole thing.

John smiled at him. "I told you they were good. Do you fancy another; you look as if you haven't eaten all day?"

Sherlock thought back and realised that was actually correct. He hadn't eaten since a piece of toast yesterday morning and tasting something so delicious suddenly made him feel ravenous.

He nodded shyly, "Yes, if you don't mind, please."

"I don't mind at all, it gives me a good excuse to have another myself."

John jumped up and went back to the counter. He came back with four more on a tray with a jar of jam this time.

"Four, John, really?"

"Hey, if you don't want them, then I'll happily eat them for you."

"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't eat them, did I?"

Sherlock felt himself smiling, relaxing a little, as he took a bite of his next scone. John cut his open and slathered it with jam. He held half of it out to Sherlock.

"Why don't you try this one? I always have them just buttered when they're fresh out of the oven because they're so melty but once they've cooled a little I prefer them with this damson jam that Mrs H makes herself. It makes them even better, if you can believe that."

Sherlock took the scone and had a bite. Oh my goodness, John was right, this was heavenly. The little pieces of damson just burst in his mouth as he bit down on them; they were so sweet. Sherlock tried to give the rest back to John but John shook his head and gestured for Sherlock to continue eating. John pointed over to Sherlock's other scones with the jam and Sherlock nodded his agreement as he took another bite. John pulled Sherlock's plate over and halved the scone which Sherlock had already taken a bite out of and covered it with jam, as well as the one he had yet to start. When the scones were all covered in jam they savoured them quietly for a few moments, grinning at each other between bites whilst they finished them off.

"Well, that nicely filled a gap," John smiled, "Would you like another drink after all that?"

"I'll get it this time," Sherlock offered.

"No, it's fine, this is my treat, and I invited you."

"Yes, why did you?" Sherlock couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Greg's mentioned you before. He told me about how clever you are and when I saw you at the party I knew I just had to meet you."

Sherlock blushed. "Did he also tell you how rude I can be?"

"He said you didn't suffer fools gladly, but I'm sure you can't be as bad as all that."

"I'm afraid that it's true as I'm sure you'll discover very quickly. In fact, shall we just get this over with and then you can punch me or leave, whichever you prefer."

"Get what over with? And, of course, I won't be punching you or leaving, what on earth are you talking about?"

"That's what always happens when I tell people what I can see about them."

"Greg said you could do that. Go on then, if you're worried. Do your worst."

Sherlock sighed. "Ok, you asked for it. Your parents are dead and you were raised by a grandparent. Your surname has a Scottish origin but you didn't go to stay with your father's family, therefore, it was your mother's mother who raised you. She is from a county on the Welsh border but not actually in Wales - Shropshire, most likely - though you have been accused of being Welsh before. You have an older sibling to whom you're not very close but share a remarkable resemblance, especially when you were younger. You're studying medicine here and want to be a doctor and are contemplating joining the army when you're done to pay for your training."

Sherlock stopped at that stage, looking down at his nails as he waited for the inevitable screech of the chair pushing out as John stormed off. Nothing happened, though, and when he glanced up, John's mouth was hanging open, a stunned look on his face. As John closed his mouth and licked his lower lip before speaking, Sherlock held his breath, here it came.

"That was... amazing."

Wait; that wasn't right. "Really?"

"Of course; it was extraordinary, quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off."

John threw his head back, laughing, as he took in Sherlock's straightforward delivery and acceptance.

Sherlock, himself, looked a little shocked, though the side of his lip curved up a little as he watched John's continued giggling. Well; that was an interesting development. He hadn't had a reaction like that before. Maybe this wouldn't be the immediate disaster he had anticipated.

When John finally stopped giggling he pushed his chair out.

"Let's have another drink and you can tell me how you knew all that. Coffee again?"

"I'll have a tea this time please. Darjeeling, the same as you please."

John raised his eyebrow. He knew very well that he hadn't told Sherlock what tea he had ordered.

"The aroma; it's very distinctive and a favourite of mine."

John nodded as he grinned and took their tray of plates up to the counter and brought back two teas and sat himself down opposite Sherlock.

"Go on then, tell me how you achieved that amazing feat."

"Your wallet revealed a picture of you and another child standing with an older lady; matching outfits and you were probably often mistaken for each other at a distance, though your sibling is a sister. No recent photos of parents and you have an old fashioned chivalry which was clearly learnt from an older relative, therefore, orphaned and living with the grandmother. Though your name is Scottish, your accent is not so it wasn't your father's family with whom you lived. You have a tinge of a soft burr, similar to Welsh but not sing-song enough to be direct, so, on the borders. When you were talking to Mrs Hudson you used the word 'dunna' which is part of the Shropshire dialect so that narrowed it down further, though I am unsure of the precise town."

"That was astounding. You got all that from a quick view of my wallet and a few spoken words? The town I grew up in is Shrewsbury, by the way, which is about 10 miles from the Welsh border so you got it spot on. Lots of my friends here have never heard of it, and do think I sound Welsh. My rugby mates, especially, like to ask me if I'm fond of shagging sheep."

Sherlock smiled at him, "And are you?"

"Only if I can't find a better alternative." John winked lasciviously at Sherlock who blushed and laughed. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. I'm afraid I don't have the same skills to know everything just by looking at you."

"Not much to tell really. I also have an older sibling, but the least said about him the better. My parents still live in our house in Sussex but I couldn't wait to come to London."

"Even over Oxford or Cambridge? Greg tells me you're like a genius or something."

"There's no 'or something'. My brother went to Oxford so I definitely didn't want to go there and the city is where everything happens which is why I chose to come here to UCL instead. I've been building up my own visual map of London, learning its ways and alleys so I spend a lot of my time walking the streets. That was what I was planning on doing this evening, actually, after I assumed you would have stormed off."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you then."

Sherlock blushed slightly, "It... It wasn't a disappointment."

John grinned at him, "Well, I'm glad about that. Would you like to go out now? Maybe you could show me around. I could probably use the exercise to walk off all those scones."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, I'd like that."

John cleared their table, taking the tray back to the counter, only to be hustled away by Mrs Hudson.

"Oh, go on; be off with you, now. You know I can clear those myself. You go and have fun with your friend."

"I know you can but it doesn't mean you have to." John laughed. "This is Sherlock, by the way. I'm sure you'll see us back here very soon - he's a big fan of your scones now, too."

Sherlock looked surprised. 'Friend' - that was unusual. The proprietor had called him John's friend and John hadn't denied it. He'd also said that they'd be back and it had sounded like he meant together. Sherlock had not experienced this before and it felt strange, but nice somehow. Acceptance and inclusion - where before he had always been ridiculed or ostracised. He found himself liking it and he joined John in waving to Mrs Hudson as they made their way outside.

Perhaps this could be the start of something new. Something different and unexpected but not altogether unpleasant. The 'butterflies' feeling had gone, thankfully, and he was left with a surprising warmth and sense of anticipation. The possibilities, it seemed, were opening up for something more. He wasn't necessarily sure of what form the 'more' would take but he sensed that it would be good and he smiled at John as they began their journey - knowing instinctively that it would lead them onward together.

~*~

Chapter Two

They walked around back streets and alleys, Sherlock knowing exactly where they were at all times and showing John shortcuts he'd never noticed which would get him to places that he commonly visited in half the time. As they strolled around Sherlock regaled John with interesting facts about their surroundings. True, many of them were concerning crimes that had taken place in the vicinity, both in the long distant past and also more recently, but John found it all fascinating.

"So, these were actually the hunting grounds of Jack the Ripper?"

"Well, this is the area where the man many, myself included, believe committed the crimes used to live. He didn't kill anyone on his own doorstep, of course, the murders were actually all in Whitechapel."

"Didn't some people think it was royalty, the Prince of Wales, or someone like that?"

"That was a much vaunted theory but I've looked back over the evidence and he was quite obviously out of the country during the third killing so it couldn't have been him."

They ended up in Covent Garden, where many stalls were still open for late night Christmas shopping and the street performers were drawing large crowds of tourists, out enjoying the festive atmosphere. They stopped for a while to watch a man juggling flaming wands until John noticed that Sherlock's eyes were focused on someone in the crowd instead of the performer.

"What's the matter?"

"That man over there has just committed a crime. His pointed nonchalance is a mere disguise. He keeps glancing to his left through the corner of his eye as if waiting to see if something has been noticed. He, meanwhile, is strategically manoeuvring his way further and further away from that area whilst still looking enthralled by the juggler. I think he's taken the purse of that lady in the purple coat. She has been searching through her bag looking for something for a minute now and is getting more flustered as time progresses."

John watched as the lady was indeed moving things in her bag more frantically. She looked around, searching the ground as if she might have dropped whatever it was.

"In a few moments she will notice the policeman I saw further up the street four minutes ago who should be just about to come round that corner any time now and then she will call him over. At which point our friend across the way is going to move even more rapidly to the right and lose himself in that crowd around the uni-cyclist. He will consider that a safe enough distance at which to start a fast-paced walk to make his exit down an alley halfway along that street with his ill-gotten gains."

"We should stop him then."

Sherlock grinned at him, "An excellent idea, John; just what I was thinking myself - though it could be dangerous."

"If that was meant to put me off then you've picked the wrong partner in crime, or anti-crime in this case." John smiled back at him, "Shall we?"

"Indeed."

John and Sherlock shuffled nearer to the uni-cyclist who was actually closer to them than the thief. They managed to get on the other side of him just as the man emerged from the crowd and started down towards the alley. As they approached they heard a "Stop. Police!" shouted from behind them. The man's head swung round as he looked to see if it was him they had spotted. He saw Sherlock and John closing in on him and seemed to realise their intent. 

The thief took off with Sherlock and John close on his heels. He skidded slightly as he turned left into the exact alley Sherlock had predicted. As they rounded the corner themselves, John spotted an abandoned empty beer bottle lying by the side of some bins. He hefted it in his hand to gauge the weight, flipped it round to hold it by the neck and flung it in the thief's direction. It turned end over end as it flew through the air and landed right on the back of the criminal's head. He crashed to the ground and Sherlock was on him a moment later with his knee in the middle of his back, pulling his arms behind him to hold him in place.

"Excellent, John. Those rugby skills really paid off."

"What? How did you know I played rugby?"

"With a throw like that - what else could it be? It was blatantly obvious that you were a sportsman from your stance and musculature and with that kind of aim at a moving target it is unlikely to be anything else."

"You are amazing."

Sherlock smiled shyly up at John who grinned back at him just as the policeman came running round the corner.

"Ah, there you are, officer. We appear to have apprehended your thief. I believe you'll find the purse he has stolen in his left inside pocket, as well as another two on the right by the feel of things."

"Erm, thank you both. That was a nice bit of work. How did you know it was him?"

The policeman clapped on his handcuffs and radioed in for a car to come and collect the prisoner whilst Sherlock went through his deductions again with John looking on proudly. The policeman made a note of everything in his book and took Sherlock's details as well.

"We'll need to call you in to the station tomorrow to take down your official statement but that'll be enough for now. Thanks for your help."

John and Sherlock headed off as the police van pulled up at the end of the alley.

"Are things always so action-packed around you?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for me, I was just thinking what fun it was."

Sherlock looked surprised that someone else seemed to find these things as exciting as he did. It made such a pleasant change from the boring people with whom he usually had to associate. Once again John was proving to be a revelation. 

"So, would you like to meet up again tomorrow and see what further adventures we can have?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

~*~  
Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to A.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff for Christmas and have fun with whichever festivity you choose to celebrate.  
> Joolz :)


End file.
